


Vox

by OracleGlass



Category: Masters of Rome - McCullough
Genre: Gen, Roman History, Rome - Freeform, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleGlass/pseuds/OracleGlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The voice is the story, all the way through history.  Octavian, from those who helped shape him into Caesar Augustus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helarctos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helarctos/gifts).



_There are few things that dominate the mind of a man with intelligence, with honor, with the proper love for his country. These are the things that may overmaster even a man of great control, because they run in his blood, they sing along every sinew of his being. There is love. There is blood. And there is ambition._

**Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa**

Even all these years later, I remember my first sight of him. Twitchy, slightly peaked in appearance, but with the slender build of a Greek wrestler. He appeared with baggage and a retinue, the picture of a spoiled young brat. He disarmed me, though – disarmed everyone. Normally, a pretty-boy would be harassed a bit, and indeed there were ugly rumors floated, speculation about whether he had ever been some older man's bum-boy. And he was sickly, wheezed and gasped for breath. But he made people forget all that, didn't he? Especially if you were ever in the position of having those cold, bright eyes glare at you in anger! A proper basilisk, when roused. Who knew, then, that he would live to see adulthood, let alone rise to great heights? Perhaps his great-uncle saw that in him. Octavian is the first man of Rome, and Rome is the world.

He has let me spread my wings and soar. I know my own capabilities, and I would have gone far, but in his service...in his friendship, I permit myself to say, I have been able to take flight. I have known victory and the profound satisfaction of seeing my enemies routed on the field. And even more, I have put my stamp on Rome herself, bringing new growth to where there once was only decay. I wonder if he got that passion for building from me - my desire to see beauty spring up where there once was crumbling disrepair. He teased me about that business with the aqueduct...said I would be remembered as a god of waters by the poor of the city! I told him that as long as my buildings endured after my death, I would be satisfied. Being worshiped isn't quite my style.

Perhaps I take too much credit, assuming his passion for rebuilding came from me. I remember seeing his face, once, as we stood looking out over the city. So much of it a shambles, it wronged the goddess Roma. Her outward face should reflect her inward spirit. So much has been done, so much yet to do.

Does it seem strange to you to hear a soldier talk this way, of beauty and order? As if I should only be good at throat-slitting and besieging a city. It was not strange to Octavian. He knows the uses of men. He saw who I was, and put me to work.

 

**Livia Drusilla**

There is love, and there is love, and then again there is love. He found me among ruins, and raised me up, and now I have a purpose, a reason, work for my hands. He says he will make a goddess of me, and I believe him. All things have suddenly become possible.

Is this the way Gaius Julius Caesar's women felt about him? I doubt it. That harpy Servilla, intelligent as she may be, was never his true partner, not the way I am for my husband. And the Queen of Beasts was an outsider, a foreigner who could never understand the ways of Rome. But I am more than just a listening ear, I have a voice and a mind and he loves me for that, as well. Sometimes when I am alone, I clutch that knowledge to myself in exultation and have to stop myself from laughing out loud with joy.

There are sculptures of me in cities across the known world. There are so few famous women, but I will be one of them...I will be remembered long after I am dead. My name will be known to history.

I never knew there could be so much power in the world, until he showed me the way to it. And I will learn to wield it, after my own fashion.

**Cleopatra**

He has blackened my name, called me whore, witch, murderess, Queen of Beasts. Oh, Romans - can they ever be rid of their infuriating smugness? I have loved the greatest of them, and striven against the pup who comes to take the place of his dead father. He does not look like his adopted father, not truly, but there is something in his eyes that is the same. I cannot even be bothered to hate him. Who can stand against such strong blood? Caesar could level mountains if they stood in his way; I see something of the same spirit in this man, though he has not the quality of his father-uncle. He loves Rome with the same passion, but he loves power more, however much he may deny it to himself.

He has murdered his own blood, son of my loins and of Caesar's, and has taken his name. Caesar needed a Roman son - an Egyptian one, no matter that he be Pharaoh, would simply not suffice. He made his choice, and now my son is dead. I have made my own choices. Octavian may rule here, but I am safely beyond his reach. Antony and I will meet in the Land of the Dead, and I will be with my son again. I know also that I will never see Caesar again, never walk with him under the sky of the next world. He belonged to Rome and still does, eternally. He was only mine for a little while, and I must be content with that.

**Divus Julius**

So, the boy has made me a god. They tried, while I was still on earth, to make me divine, but I refused that Eastern nonsense as the absurdity it was. Now that I am safely dead, they may worship me all they like. I am no longer around to be annoyed by it. I never needed to be a god. But he needs me to be one, enjoys having divinity in the family tree, finds it quite useful for his purposes.

I built a forum with a temple to Venus Genetrix, but now I appear among the other sculptures of the gods in his temple to Mars Ultor, Mars the Avenger. War and love in exact parallel, the hinges of both our lives, the blood of the family and the blood of an enemy spilled on the ground. He is entirely more subtle than I was, and he has Agrippa to pair him, two strong horses pulling a chariot. They will achieve things I never dreamed of. Things I never wanted to dream of. Cunning boy, using his family as a ploy to get his laws passed! I never used my loved ones in that particular way. I wonder if I could have, had I thought of it?

If I am to be a god, so be it. I will breathe him full of Caesar's luck, which is now Roma's luck. He will be _felix_, and hold the world in his two hands.

I wished to shine against a backdrop of my defeated rivals, not eliminate them. What will he do, I wonder, when there is no-one to strive against?

**Caesar Augustus**

The sculptures of me show a handsome man. The boyish beauty that plagued my life is gone, and the sculptor's hand has turned me into something larger than myself. Don't I look a picture of the ideal Roman? The strong jawline, the noble brow, the steady gaze of an eagle. The ears...well, I am beyond caring about those particular small vanities. All over the world, I can be seen in the guise of a magistrate, a priest, a soldier, a ruler. My profile adorns coins, is carved into cameos. They all must see me as exemplar, but not just me – my wife, my family. We are the models to which all must aspire.

I have taken the reins of power amidst a welter of blood, which is fitting. Power and blood are always intertwined. My father knew that, and so did the yapping dogs that slew him. I have killed the ones who matter, the curs. Even the blood of my cousin is on my hands, because it was a necessary deed.

Sometimes I still see how he looked as I thrust the sword into him. He had my father's face, curse him, the face that only I had the right to wear. And sometimes, slithering past me in the darkness, I see the shadow of a giant snake, its scales whispering dryly against stone.

None of it matters.

The memories of men are very short. I will change them. It's easier to do than you would think.

Rome will be reborn under my guidance. I will bring about peace and prosperity, and make right what was so wrong, what has been so badly broken. It is the only fitting use for power, and as I am the one who comprehends that best, I will be the one to carry it out. My father couldn't, and broke his heart trying until they killed him for it. I have the means, now, to finish what he started, but it will be done my way.

I have already started writing a history. What I wish to be remembered, will be remembered, and what I wish to erase, will be erased.

That is what it means to be the master of Rome.


End file.
